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I’m being careful and taking things slow with Alex but it has been really hot and I’m sure these memories will be part of my ‘wank bank’ for a long time.This is the third experience with Alex that I’ve written in depth about. I love my blog but these detailed accounts of playing with Alex are something that I’ve kept purely for members of SwimmerBoyz.com. I really appreciate your support guys and want to share these experiences with you and I hope you enjoy reading about them.You can read the other two experiences at these links:- www.SwimmerBoyz.com/freestory-firsttimewithalex.asp- www.SwimmerBoyz.com/freestory-alexsfirstcock.aspNow to what lead up to Friday. There are two parts to this. First off, Alex texted me early in the week and told me that he was going to take Friday afternoon off work if I was keen to ‘play’. I said “HELL YEAH”. It was then that I returned to Alex’s sexual bucket list which I mentioned after writing about our last experience together last week. One of the. But here I was, David driving thisCivic wearing Sam's Club clothing. Even my no name sneakers told thestory of my sorry ass.Arriving home I lumbered out of the dinged up Civic and walked to myfront door. The door was the only outward sign of another me. In anondescript neighborhood of homes I had painted the door a glossy shadebetween watermelon and plum. It was an oddity on my street but when Iwas asked why I would reply, "the color was on sale." But it was afeminine touch for such a bachelor pad.Home at last with my outlandish colored door closed behind me I tookstock of my meager abode. Since this house had been my mom's the livingroom furniture was old and worn but since my Mom a decorator it had herlook. The sofa was green worsted wool and the stuffed chairs a plaid ofyellow and brown. Actually it looked atrocious. I guess I knew where mydoor color came from genetically.My bedroom was a different story. I had done the whole thing in blackand white. It was a neither here nor.
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But after this night’s adventure I wasn’t interested in any more sex. However, within ten minutes I had changed my mind. I was flummoxed by Donna’s presence but astute enough to realize that here was the potential to change the course of history. Donna was a stone beauty. You would suspect that she had her hair coiffed in a French weave, but it was just naturally curly. Her face was essentially flawless. Everything was just right. She had incredibly dewy skin, pretty hands, a well-proportioned body, and happened to be wearing Birkenstock-like sandals—the style they wore those days—with the thin strip running vertical into a T-strap at the ankle. Since I have always had a foot fetish I care about the feet and hers’ were incredible. “Donna here shares my disappointment that you have gone gay, Michael.” Mom got right down to the point, as always. I felt my face warm from flushing. Next came a shot of adrenaline. “Mom, I’m not gay I’m bisexual.” I was hardly in the mood for being.

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